


A Drunken Confession

by The_Muses_of_Mars



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: IgNoct, M/M, Tobacco use, alcohol use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-02
Updated: 2017-08-02
Packaged: 2018-12-10 01:49:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11681490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Muses_of_Mars/pseuds/The_Muses_of_Mars
Summary: Gladio and Noct bond over cigarettes and booze, and Ignis finds himself growing strangely...jealous? When Noct makes an unexpected confession, Ignis can't tell if he's drunk or being serious.





	A Drunken Confession

**Author's Note:**

> IgNoct Week Day 3, Prompt A: (Simple) Sleep

The night was late and the boys were tired, but none of them was willing to crawl into his sleeping bag just yet. The time they had to just relax and enjoy each other’s company without worrying about being attacked by magitek troopers, daemons, or even the local wildlife was reserved to meals around the campfire just before bed, and whether or not any of them would admit it, it was their favorite part of the day. This was the time of night they all looked forward to and felt reluctant to let end.

Prompto sighed with contentment as he sat down beside the blazing fire and took his camera out of its bag to review his most recent photos. “Another day frought with danger,” he mused.

 _“…‘Frought’?”_ a mocking voice repeated.

Just then, Prince Noctis had returned from replenishing his supply of magicka at the elemental pools near their campsite. Whenever they were unable to make it to town before dusk and needed to set up camp, they always made sure to pitch the tent near a plentiful magicka source so their spell-wielding leader could keep up his energy for the battles to come.

The prince found an empty lawn chair and fell into it unceremoniously. “You’re sounding awfully poetic tonight, Prompto,” he remarked, crossing his booted feet at the ankles and folding his arms beneath his head.

“At least you didn’t call me ‘dramatic’,” Prompto muttered, shooting a dark gaze at the prince’s chief bodyguard.

Gladiolus snorted as he claimed a seat across from Noct and reached into the chest pocket of his jacket for a pack of cigarettes. “You’re _all_ pretty dramatic,” the large man said with a laugh as he smacked the pack against the butt of his hand and then withdrew a smoke.

The prince watched him with interest, ignoring the insult as he said, “Let me have one of those.”

Half of Gladio’s mouth turned upward in a crooked grin. “Why, so we can all watch you make an ass of yourself as you take your virgin puff?” he taunted. Then his lips broke out in a full smile. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” He sat up from a reclined position on his lawn chair and stretched out his arm, offering the pack to Noctis.

The prince responded by pinching a cigarette between two fingers and sliding it smoothly from the pack. Then he produced his own lighter, flicked it to get the stick burning, then returned to his own relaxed position as he took a slow drag and blew out an expert ring of smoke.

Prompto, pleased someone had finally shown Gladio up, let out a cheer and applauded.

Ignis, who was the voice of reason amongst the four young men, looked on with disapproval but didn’t complain. They all had their vices, he supposed, and besides…who knew if they would even live through this treacherous journey?

Gladio just shrugged at Noct, though his expression showed he was at least a little impressed, and lit up his cigarette before tucking the pack and lighter back into his pocket. Then he leaned over the arm of his chair and reached for the cooler to get himself a beer. “You want one?” he asked the young prince. This time there wasn’t a trace of mockery in his tone.

“Why not?”

Ignis’s frown deepened but he continued to quietly sew a replacement button onto the shirt he held in his lap. It wasn’t as though Noctis were going to get behind the wheel tonight, after all, he told himself; they would finish their photo-gawking, cigarette-smoking, beer-drinking, and button-sewing and be off to bed shortly.

Gladio uncapped a couple bottles and handed one to Noct.

“Hey, can I try one of those?” Prompto asked, growing more and more interested in the male bonding ritual he was witnessing.

“You’re not old enough,” Gladio said, but he was watching Noct.

Prompto frowned. He and Noct were the same age. But he figured if he tried arguing with Gladio he’d just end up with a noogie or a wedgie, so he just grunted with disappointment and turned his attention back to his camera, spitefully showing Ignis an unflattering photo he’d taken of Gladio earlier.

Ignis tried to appear interested in Prompto’s pictures and chatter for the next hour as he mended their torn clothing, but he found himself distracted as he stole glances at Gladio and Noctis. The two men first compared their recent kills and then philosophied about combat techniques. It was rare to see them getting along, and he found himself strangely unhappy about it. Could it be he was jealous? He felt his face growing warm and shook his head sharply. He stabbed himself with the needle he was holding and the pain helped him regain control of his attention and allowed him to focus.

Noctis and Gladio had each had two beers when the brawnier of the two suggested they partake of a “real" man’s drink: whiskey.

“Prompto,” Gladio called over to the bored blond, “get me my rucksack from over there, will ya?”

“No, I will not,” Prompto retorted flippantly. “You guys are ignoring _me_ , so I’m ignoring _you_.” He went back to the manga he was reading for the tenth time while Ignis tried not to cringe at all its sacrilegiously dog-eared pages.

“Perhaps His Highness should be heading to bed soon,” Ignis gently argued when he saw Gladio preparing to rise from his seat. “It’s nearly midnight now, and he has a difficult time waking in the morning as it is.”

“He ain’t driving,” Gladio pointed out, climbing out of his lawn chair and passing by the others to find his pack.

Noct stamped out his third cigarette of the evening and sat up with interest. Gladio rarely treated him like anything but a child. He was a little tired, but he was having too good a time to quit now.

“Neither am I,” Prompto muttered, turning a page. He was stretched out on his side on his sleeping bag next to the fire. To be honest, he was getting so sleepy he didn’t care what the guys were doing next. He just didn’t like to be excluded, and he had a suspicion Ignis didn’t, either. Oh, well. He figured the two of them could just sulk tonight and get sweet revenge tomorrow somehow—probably in the form of playing loud music while the guys in the back seat suffered painful hangovers.

Gladio produced a tall, amber-colored bottle from his rucksack and carried it over to Noct with a broad grin. “Here’s a real drink,” he said, settling down on the ground next to Noct’s chair. “This’ll put some hair on that scrawny chest for yours.”

Noct scowled at him. “Aren’t you going to get us some cups?”

“You don’t need a cup. We’re just going to drink it straight outta the bottle.”

Ignis’s jaw tightened. He’d run out of rips and tears to mend and was now picking invisible lint from the jacket he had just neatly folded.

The first drink burned the worst. Noctis couldn’t help but choke as he swallowed a trail of liquid fire from the bottle Gladio offered him. The other man laughed, but instead of berating the boy, he took a swig of his own, coughed, and handed it back.

After that, it was a game to see who could take a drink without reacting. It went on and on. As Ignis watched the bottle being passed back and forth, back and forth, flames blazed behind the lenses of his spectacles that may not have only been reflections cast by the campfire.

It wasn’t long before the men were quite drunk. At last Noctis went to pass the tall bottle back to Gladio and dropped it. Rather than reach to pick it up and rescue its hastily-spilling contents, both of them howled in fits of uncontrollable laughter that nearly—just nearly—woke the gently-snoring Prompto.

“That is quite enough!” Ignis finally snapped. He rose up from his seat by the fire, picked the bottle up, and slammed it down on a folding tray. “Highness, I insist you retire for the evening before you make yourself ill. Come; I’ll help you.” He reached down and hooked his arms beneath the prince’s.

“Hey—we’re having fun over here!” Gladio protested, grabbing at Noct’s leg as Ignis dragged him to his feet. It took two tries but Gladio finally caught hold of the boy. “Don’t take away my drinking buddy, you old stick in the mud!” Noctis chortled.

“Gladiolus,” Ignis growled, “you have rendered His Highness completely intoxicated! Now do the honorable thing and release him this instant while one of you has his wits about him—what little you possess to begin with.”

“Ouch!” Noct said loudly. “That’s harsh, man.”

“Yeah, that was a burn,” Gladio admitted, reluctantly letting go of the prince’s pant leg.

Noct held up a hand, deliberately licked his finger, then waved it in Ignis’s face over his shoulder, letting out a long hissing sound.

“Highness—please!” Ignis was in no mood for this foolishness. He was distraught—for several reasons. This was the first time to his recollection Noctis and Gladio had ever argued to spend _more_ time together instead of _less_. This was also the first time Ignis had ever seen the prince drunk, and he didn’t like it—especially not how it had come about.

“I’m not _that_ drunk, Ignis,” the prince complained, but when his feet got tangled from just trying to walk, he betrayed himself by falling into Ignis.

The older man tightened his hold on the boy, holding him steady as he urged him toward the tent. “Highness, you are _quite_ inebriated, and this shall be the last time I allow it to happen. I should have stopped it. I shouldn’t have been so indulgent with you.” He cursed himself.

“You always are,” Noct slurred, leaning heavily against Ignis as he looked up at him and grinned.

Ignis’s lips were drawn in a thin line. “I know,” he said bluntly.

They reached the tent and Ignis pressed his hand against the prince’s back, trying to make him bend over so he could crawl into it. But instead Noct sank to his knees and just stayed there.

“Oh, for the love of—!” Ignis sighed. He knelt down with annoyance and tried pushing Noct, but the only way to get the prince to move was to crawl into the tent himself and drag the boy along with him. And when he did, Noct somehow landed in his arms—and their mouths somehow touched.

Ignis gasped and drew back, taking a firm hold of Noct’s shoulders and pushing him away.

“What’s wrong?” Noct demanded drunkenly.

“H-Highness!” Ignis’s cheeks were darkly flushed.

Noct grinned crookedly, but it was a sad smile. “Don’t you want me to? I kinda thought you did.”

Ignis’s eyes were wide behind the rims of his spectacles. He was too startled and embarrassed to reply.

Noct reached out, his hands rubbing Ignis’s thighs. “If you don’t, then say so. Cause otherwise…I’m feeling pretty adventurous.” He grinned and leaned in.

Again Ignis pushed him back. “Noct, stop,” he ordered quietly.

For some reason Noctis found that funny, and he started laughing again.

Ignis frowned darkly. “This is no joking matter. You’re toying with me and I want you to stop. I’m asking you to. Please.”

Noct quieted his laughter but he was still smiling as he crawled closer, his knees between Ignis’s thighs and his hands reaching up to cup the other man’s face. Ignis turned away but the prince forced him to look into his eyes, even as Ignis’s emerald irises brimmed with shame.

“Hey,” Noctis murmured, his thumbs gently brushing away the warm trickle of tears spilling from Ignis’s eyes, “I’m not going to hurt you.”

“You already have,” Ignis whispered back, afraid of losing control of his voice. He braced his hands against the ground, unable to push the prince away.

“I did?” Noct’s expression became gravely serious. He released Ignis’s face, his hands hovering on either side of the man’s head as he inspected him as though for injury. “I… I would never try to hurt you, Ignis. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have been drinking. I should have had the courage to do this sober, so you wouldn’t doubt me.”

“…Do what?” Ignis asked confusedly.

The prince lowered his arms and backed away, shaking his head.

“…Noct…?”

Noctis sat back on his rolled-out sleeping bag, trying to focus his vision. “I really thought you wanted me, too,” he mumbled, rubbing his eyes.

It was obvious he was about to black out. “Noct!” Ignis hurried to the prince’s side, catching him in his arms as his head fell back. He gently laid him down on the sleeping bag and drew a cover up over his lithe body.

Ignis wondered what Noct had been trying to say, but he was sure it was best left unsaid. In the morning the prince would be in poor physical condition, but Ignis was relieved the boy would surely have forgotten their sloppy sort-of kiss and his Highness’s failed drunken seduction…if that was what it had been.

Ignis sighed and crawled over to his own sleeping bag, feeling confused and unhappy.


End file.
